Flight of a Primarch
by Black-Librarian Skirath
Summary: Konrad Curze and Corax are summoned by Leman Russ to aid Sanguinius after he's had a bit too much to drink...


_Hi there, Black-Librarian Skirath here. So I hope this shows everyone that I'm not dead. I know it's been a while, and I am truly sorry for that. I was focusing on my original, non-fanfic pieces for a while; then exams came around and I was stuck studying. But now that the summer is here I'll be writing a hell of a lot more, including my fanfics. Yes I'm still working on Corruption, Homeworld, and of course Celestial Office Party ch3. It's been some hectic months… it involved a hard-drive crash, two blown laptop chargers, and general lack of support on my end. Here's a short comedy piece to wet your appetites, hope you enjoy. This is a bit of a juvenile concept, but the idea came from my friend Cody, so blame him if you don't like it._

Deep in the halls of Ylanon's capital city palace boisterous laughter and revelry could be heard. After two months of heavy combat the combined forces of Leman Russ' Space Wolves and Sanguinius' Blood Angels had slain the planet's tyrant king, bringing the enlightenment of the Imperium to the human populace. As was customary the Space Wolves were throwing a huge, celebratory feast where the hardiest meats were served by the ton and an entire sea's worth of wulfsmead sat chilled and ready for consumption. The grateful populace of Ylanon gathered the greatest of their carpenters to construct a table large enough to seat the two demigods known as primarchs at the head, as well as a hundred of each legion down both sides.

Leman laughed boisterously as he took in another mug of wulfsmead in a single gulp. He was a tribal war god made real, dressed in icy cold armor adorned with wolf pelts and fetishes of his home world Fenris. His face, normally a horrid mask of violence and rage, was alight with pride. His mangled, unkempt hair streamed down his face and to his thick beard. It was nearly impossible to tell where his head hair ended and his beard hair began, but few brought this to his attention. "Truly, this feast will be just as worthy of remembrance as the battle. Aye Sanguinius, my brother?" He shouted in jubilation.

Sanguinius sat next to the Wolf King, gingerly tracing his finger over the rim of his mug. Unlike his savage brother Sanguinius was a vision of classical handsomeness and poise. Dressed in crimson armor, embroidered with his legion's iconography, he was as fearsome as he was pleasant to look upon. His pale face was striking with what some would call boyish charm, and his long blonde hair flowed to the bases of his magnificent, white wings. His mug was still filled with the bubbling, foamy fluid. "Yes brother... it truly is."

All across the magnificently crafted table the primarchs' interactions were mirrored a hundredfold by their legion members. The savage, bestial Space Wolves consuming everything in front of them, while the conservative Blood Angels paced themselves, slowly enjoying what was in front of them.

It did not take long until Leman Russ noticed Sanguinius' mug, and how he had not drank a single drop from it. "Whats wrong with you, eh?"

"I… don't usually drink Leman. Except for the occasional wine, for traditions sake of course."

"Sanguinius... look at me." Sanguinius turned his head to see Leman Russ face contorted into a look of extreme seriousness. "Please don't be a puss in front of my legion…"

"I beg your pardon?" Sanguinius said, flabbergasted by Russ' insulting remark.

"Mortarion drank like twenty mugs of wulfsmead, and washed that down with an oil drum of this poison crap. He was hardcore." Russ said, smiling. "You however, at this moment, are being weak sauce…"

Sanguinius glared at Russ. "No one calls me weak sauce! Let me at the stuff!" Sanguinius began to drink the icy, foamy liquid. All the space wolves began to smash their hands and chant in tribal tongues as they gave their respect to the Angel of the Imperium. The Blood Angels soon imitated their comrades as Sanguinius emptied the flask and reached for two more.

"Now that's how its done!" Russ howled in enjoyment.

Hours later, two very different sons of the Emperor above a nearby planet were discussing matters of strategy and conquest.

Konrad Curze walked from one end of the viewing chamber to the other. It was located near the front of the Night Lord ship, The Heart of Darkness. "And Mortarion's lot?" he asked, his voice set at it's usual deep and brooding tone. Despite the claims of most astartes, they were not fear incarnate. That position was held by the demon of a man who leads The Night Lord Legion. He was armored in custom midnight blue armor, covered in legion brands, skulls, and other fear inducing accoutrements. His skin was pallid, so much so that he seemed ghoulish. His hair was long, jet black, and cascaded down his head in thin tendrils of darkness.

"As stalwart as ever. If it weren't for you brother Curze I would list him the most morbid of any of us." Corax said, jokingly. Corax wore a much simpler armor, painted black and white to honor his legion. Raven iconography decorated the ceramite surfaces of it, which he proudly bore. He had a fair complexion, and his dark hair was cut short.

Curze ignored it, focusing on the holographic map in front of him. Countless worlds yet to be brought into compliance were marked upon it. He would do his father's work in the only way he had ever known how, by bringing terror to those who would resist the Imperium and death to any alien scum he found.

"Where will you take your Raven Guard, Corax?" Curze asked in a more sibilant tone.

"I think I will join a contingent of my legion that is currently aiding Horus. It's been a long time since he and I have spoken." Corax stated regretfully. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"At the cleansing of Meridia V…" The memory of boiling oceans came rushing back to him. It was plagued by sentient crustaceans, and rendering them mad with fear was a simple thing. Astartes of both the Luna Wolves and Night Lords Legions feasted on the dead of the crustaceous defensive force. The reinforcements they mustered emerged from the green seas to find islands littered with mutilated shells of their brothers, cleaned of the tender meat beneath. It took only two weeks to cleanse the world and render it suitable for human habitation. During those two weeks, not a single man or woman of the invading expedition fleets went hungry. "I remember it well…"

"So this is like the most words we've ever had togeth-" Corax stopped as a naval hand interrupted the primarchs' discourse.

He was a native of Nostramo, a gaunt mortal dressed in the colors of the Night Lords Legion. "My lords!" He said, bowing to both of them. He gave special attention to show his respect to The Lord of Terror, Curze.

"Speak, or leave my site!" Konrad hissed in a voice that spoke of a deep, inner rage boiling inside his heart.

The naval hand was quick to answer, fearing that this anger would boil over to consume him. "We've intercepted an astropathic message from Leman Russ. From what we have discerned from its meaning it would appear Lord Sanguinius is in need of your aid, both of you."

Corax stood tall and rigid. "We have to go help him!"

Konrad merely sighed. "If we must…"

Due to their proximity to the newly complaint world of Ylanon Corax and Konrad were able to arrive within a few hours after receiving the astropathic message. The two came down on two mighty storm birds, each colored in the livery of their respective legions. They were soon in the presence of the Wolf King.

Leman Russ snarled upon seeing the two, he did not hold them in contempt as he did with some of his brothers, but he still did not agree with their methods of war making. "Took you both long enough…" He said.

"Spare the semantics, wolf." Konrad said, making Russ ooze with rage. "What is so important that you had to get us to help you? If the 'angel' is truly in danger why not just save him yourself?"

Corax attempted to diffuse the situation by gently rebuking his brother's insolence. "Konrad please!" he said through clenched teeth. "It's good to see you once again Leman. We can all catch up later, but first we must deal with the matter at hand. You have the support of both our legions and our imperial army contingents."

"Yes…" Russ began, "that won't be necessary…"

Konrad's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Well…" Russ started, pausing to find the right words. Before he could however the primarchs' superhuman senses detected a foul odor, and a sudden splat sound.

Konrad's trained eyes saw though the pall of darkness to see a large pile of what looked like human waste, although it was far too large to have been created by a mortal. "What… what the hell?"

Russ sighed. "Just look up…"

The two other primarchs up towards the heavens and both their jaws immediately dropped open. In the sky they saw the glorious form of Sanguinius, flying about in strange, unorthodox patterns. What stuck them upon immediately sighting him though was the fact that he was completely naked, stripped of his crimson armor.

"What the hell is he doing?" Konrad asked, disturbed by what he saw.

"He's… drunk, very much so actually." Russ said with a haughty laugh. "And…that's…why he…pooped there?" Corax said, pointing towards the splattered pile of primarch leavings.

Russ hesitated momentarily, the strangeness of the situation not lost on him. "I don't think he usually drinks as much as he did."

"How much did he have?" Konrad asked flatly.

"Three mugs…"

Konrad laughed, unnerving both his brothers. It was the first time either of them had heard come from him.

"Okay… so you both got your jump packs right?" Russ finally asked.

"Yes…" Corax said, trying not to sound as horrified as he was.

"I need you to go up there and talk him down, somehow he got it in his head that he should poop all over the city… something about his honor being insulted, I don't know." Russ admitted.

"Of course, this surely won't go well for the world's compliance." Corax said sternly, nudging Konrad in the arm.

Konrad sighed. "Very well, lets go."

"One more thing." Russ grunted a failed attempted discreetness. "One of Sanguinius' lot got some seamstresses to make this." Russ lifted up a huge piece of red silk. Both primarchs recognized it as what could only be described as a primarch sized diaper. "This is incase he doesn't want to cooperate."

"Umm…" Corax was at a loss for words."

"Just give it here." Konrad hissed through clenched, sharpened teeth. "This is beneath me, but I'm here so I may as well help end this embarrassment to our family! Corax come, tonight we preserve the Angel of the Imperium's innocence!"

With a minor twitch of Konrad's arm, enormous, metallic, bat like wings emerged from his back. These wings looked as though they belonged to a daemon of ancient antiquity, not a son of The Immortal Emperor, beloved by all. Beneath the wings tri-fitted thrusters surged with inner power and erupted in roaring blue fire. The force the eruption caused was just enough to propel the demi-god of terror into the sky. The fire shrieked as he jumped up and rose towards Sanguinius.

Corax's own jump pack, a far less ornate one, released its own inner fire. He followed Konrad on a pillar of smoke.

Within seconds the pair were in the presence of the Sanguinius. He was quite the mess; his hair unkempt and tangled, his limbs sweaty and fidgeting awkwardly, and of course his posterior was slightly covered in his own, recent filth.

"Sanguinius, it is I, Konrad Curze! You must stop this foolishness now!"

"He's right brother." Corax declared. "The people of this place are grateful towards you deeds here. But the wounds of war are still fresh, and… you… erm… crapping on them… will… infect those wounds… I guess? Make them gross, pulsating, and puss squirting. So… stop… this…"

Sanguinius glared at them both, and slapped them both in the face. The strikes were rendered ineffective more by his own discombobulating than by a lack of applied force. "No! I'm gunna poop all over this city! They're asking for this!"

The two primarchs were untroubled by the meager slaps and redoubled their efforts at negotiating with Sanguinius. Corax tried to make nonthreatening hand gestures to calm Sanguinius down, but from the blank expression on his face he doubted he understood any of it. "Come down with us, brother. We can talk this all out on the ground."

"But first put this on." Konrad said, lifting up the silk diaper.

"No!" Sanguinius shouted. His arms moved like pistons, one after the other, to give him the momentum to shake his whole body left and right. "No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no!"

Corax was rendered aghast; Sanguinius' movements were jostling his most private of places right in his face. "Ugh…"

"Stop shaking around so much!" Konrad roared.

"Just leave me alone! Leave me be so I can finish this!" Sanguinius yelled out as he released another deadly payload.

It slid across Corax's armored leggings, leaving a foul smelling trail down them. "Ugh! It's on my greaves!"

"Don't be so close under him then…" Konrad said, rolling his eyes.

"Sanguinius just get down!" Corax screamed with seething annoyance.

"Never!"

"Oh this has gone on long enough…" Konrad said just before striking Sanguinius in the back of the skull. The blow stuck with such force that it would have killed a mortal man ten times over, but to a being such as a primarch it was just enough to render him unconscious. Corax caught him before he could begin fatally plummeting to the ground. Immediately after Konrad slipped the diaper on him, which came in handy as the unconscious angel soiled himself.

A few hours later Sanguinius awoke, shocked at his previous behavior. His head pounded; he didn't know what to blame, the over inebriation or the blow to his skull. During his drunken escapade he had managed to crap on various locations in the vicinity of the capital city palace, including the statue's of several prominent historical figures. He apologized to the people of Ylanon, his brothers, his legion, and to the menials who were sent to clean his leavings. When asked if he wished tears to be painted on his cheeks to symbolize his sorrow at his deeds, he said no. "My tears are real…" He said, just as he departed by storm bird, never to return to the world again.

None of the primarchs spoke of the incident, ever…


End file.
